


Lay Your Head On Me (I'll Love You 'Til The Sun Dies)

by CriticalRolemance (LiveLaughLoveLarry)



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Bad Parenting, Consent, Emotions are Complicated, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Percy is so good, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Doubt, Self-Esteem Issues, Trust, Trust Issues, Whitestone (Critical Role), because any good romance should also be a good friendship, consent is important always, in this house we think syldor vessar is a dick, like not as a sexual thing just completely, not based on anything really just, not sure if it's, pick someone who's supportive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:54:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21963148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiveLaughLoveLarry/pseuds/CriticalRolemance
Summary: Vex knows Percy loves her. She knows. She does. But sometimes, she's scared anyways. They're working on it.~*~*~Trinket sits at the base of the tree, watching. His eyes are steady, soft, unjudging.“Why am I so afraid?” she asks him.He looks at her.Because it matters.“But I trust him,” she says, trying to believe it. “He’s a good man.”Good men can do bad things.It is a truth that is as painful as it is comforting. She has done bad things, things she is deeply ashamed of. He has forgiven her, every time. He has done bad things, things he wishes with all his heart he could take back. She has forgiven him, every time. The mistakes do not erase the kindness, the gentleness, the generosity. They are more than their mistakes.
Relationships: Percival "Percy" Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III/Vex'ahlia, Trinket & Vex'ahlia (Critical Role)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 89
Collections: Critmas Exchange 2019





	Lay Your Head On Me (I'll Love You 'Til The Sun Dies)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [owlmoose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlmoose/gifts).



> Thank you to everyone who made this happen -- all the mods and writers, and also all the readers, kudos-ers, commenters, and to the folks of Critical Role who started it all so many years ago. Thank you to my amazing beta reader, Andie, who puts up with my incoherent screaming every Thursday (and sometimes in between). 
> 
> Title is from ["Little Do You Know"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4bzIpYiPUUo) by Alex & Sierra which really sums up a lot of the feelings of this story. I had a lot of trouble picking a single lyric (hence why the title has two) because there were like six that were bang on the mood I was going for.

Vex’ahlia stands in the doorway of Percy’s study, tapping lightly on the doorframe. “Darling?” she asks, bouncing lightly on her toes. “Do you have a moment?” She can’t help smiling, excitement bubbling in her veins.

Percy doesn’t look up from his papers. “Can it wait?” he says. “I’m in the middle of something.”

“It’ll only take a moment,” Vex says, stepping into the room. “I have news. Good news.”

She perches on the corner of his desk, but he still keeps flipping pages and scribbling notes.

“Darling,” she says again. “Won’t you look at me, just for a moment?”

At last, he looks up at her, just as she wanted, but instead of the soft kindness that she’s used to seeing when he looks at her, all she sees is irritation. “What is so blasted urgent?” he says crossly. “What do you want? Can’t you see I’m busy?”

She falters. It’s like stepping into another world. Like when Keyleth transported them to the foreignness of the Fire Plane. Like stepping back in time, back to being a little girl again. All the excitement and joy drains out of her at his chastisement, all the things she wants to say suddenly robbed from her lips, until she doesn’t even have the energy to defend herself. She tucks her trembling hands behind her back, twisting them together to keep them still.

“Nevermind,” she says. “Clearly it’s not important.”

It takes every ounce of concentration she can muster to turn and walk out of the room, head held high, eyes staring straight ahead unblinking to keep the tears from falling. She thinks she hears Percy call after her, or maybe she just wants him to. She pauses in the hall outside, leaning against a wall, trying to breathe.

Silence. Stillness. He doesn’t come.

~*~*~

She runs to the woods. That’s where she’s always gone to get away, to think, to feel safe, for as long as she can remember. From growing up in Byroden to fleeing Syngorn, the woods has always felt like where she is most herself. It’s different now, without her brother — he always came with her, before. But the woods still feels like home, still feels like a haven that welcomes her in. The woods is simple. It doesn’t care about family or romance or dragons or liches or any of a million problems she’s dealt with. The woods remains. The woods is at peace. And when she’s there, so is she, a little.

This is not the first time she’s run to the woods of Whitestone, either. She ran after Vax joined the Raven Queen. She ran after Percy asked her to marry him. She ran when the news came that the harvest was failing. It didn’t mean she was distraught, didn’t mean she was avoiding it. It just meant she was overwhelmed. She needed space. She needed to breathe.

She has never needed to breathe more than this.

Usually, she wanders for a time. The day is for exploring, perhaps hunting. At night, there’s a cave she found on one of her walks. It’s protected from the wind and rain, a patch of wild grapes just outside the mouth of the cave. She’s brought a couple of old rugs to cushion the hard rock, but otherwise, she’s left it natural.

Today, though, she doesn’t wander. She grips Trinket’s fur hard, whispering to the bear to take her to the cave. Trinket nuzzles her gently, his dark eyes telegraphing affection and concern. “I’m all right,” she assures him. “I just need to rest. But not here.”

Trinket nuzzles her again, but nods, a gesture that some find uncanny but Vex just finds endearing. She trusts him. He’ll take care of her. He always has. 

She follows him almost blindly, her eyes open enough to avoid walking into trees or tripping over vines, but she doesn’t see any of it. She’s lost in her mind, in exhaustion and fear, and it feels like she blinks and they’re standing in front of the cave.

She throws her arms around Trinket for a moment, burying her face in his warm fur as she hugs him tightly. “Thank you,” she whispers, hot tears welling in her eyes.

Trinket doesn’t say anything, of course, simply nudges her into the cave. She obeys, pulling down one of the furled rugs and spreading it over the hard stone. As she sits, Trinket lies beside her, curling around her in a way that makes her feel safe, feel protected. The tears spring again, and she buries her face in his fur again, letting the tears wick away. Trinket doesn’t move, doesn’t make a sound. He’s just there. 

Eventually Vex’s breath slows, the tension slipping from her muscles, and she sleeps. Trinket will keep watch. He’ll keep her warm. He’ll keep her safe.

She sleeps.

~*~*~

She wakes early from nightmares she can’t describe, can’t remember. As she opens her eyes, all she knows of her dreams is that she failed. She wasn’t enough. She can still feel the weight of disappointment like a leaden shroud, one she can’t seem to shake off as she pushes herself to her feet.

The sun hasn’t yet risen, the sky just barely starting to turn from black to blue, but she won’t be able to sleep again. She strokes Trinket’s head, and he nuzzles sleepily against her hand. 

“I’m going out,” she tells him. He immediately starts to push himself to his feet, grunting and yawning. “You can stay,” she says soothingly. “Keep sleeping. Come find me when it’s properly morning.”

The look he gives suggests that the mere suggestion is ridiculous. 

“I can take care of myself,” she says.

Another look. He knows that, of course. That’s not the point. He’s coming. It’s what he does. It’s not that he doesn’t believe in her abilities. It’s that he’s coming anyways. 

They walk until they find a hilltop, watching the sunset bloom over the horizon as Vex nibbles on a handful of wild berries. It’s peaceful, she thinks, lying on her back as she looks up at the sky, hands folded on her stomach. So why can’t she find peace? Why is she still so restless, so uneasy? 

She spends the day hard at work, gathering firewood to ward off the night’s chill. When she gets hungry, she fells a goose flying overhead. She uses the feathers to fletch arrows as the meat roasts over the fire. She grooms Trinket head to toe, murmuring to him as she picks brambles and tangles out of his fur. Sometimes she speaks nonsense, sometimes she asks questions she doesn’t expect answers to, sometimes she lapses into thoughtful silence. 

By the time the sun sets, Trinket’s fur is smooth and gleaming, and Vex’s hands are cramping. She nibbles a few more bites of the goose before leaving the rest to Trinket, and beds down for the night. She dreams of running, running away, running as far and as fast as she can. Her lungs ache and her legs throb and her heart is heavy with guilt, though she’s not sure what for. She stumbles and falls, her knees scraped raw, the pain jerking her awake. She’s just barely able to crawl to the mouth of the cave before she throws up. Leaves cover the mess, and she sits by the opening, legs pulled close to her stomach, until the sun rises.

The second day, they climb a mountain, moving from deep green foliage to trees just beginning to turn to barren rock and the occasional patch of snow. Vex pulls her cloak tighter around her and keeps climbing. She hopes the exercise will help her think, or perhaps the cold will help her forget. When she looks down, she can see the entire valley spread out before her. The city looks small and tightly packed from this distance, and she can barely make out the specks of people walking the streets, but it looks sturdy and resilient and loved by its people. It looks like a place that is determined to take whatever is thrown at it. It looks like a place that has weathered storms and avalanches, and rebuilt itself a hundred times. It does not presume to tell the mountains what to be, but it does not apologize for what it is.

It is dark by the time they reach the bottom, and Vex’s hands are nearly numb from the cold by the time they reach the cave. She sits by the fire a long time before falling asleep. She dreams of snow, trudging through drifts that come up to her waist, as the flakes keep falling until she’s buried, the sun fading out above her.

The third day, she decides to circle the town, sticking to the forest but just close enough to peer through the occasional break in the trees. She moves slowly, noting a patch of wild asparagus here or a cluster of hickory trees there, filing the information away for a time of need.

She hears him before she sees him. Of course she does; he’s never quite learned the forest the way she has. He’s tried, but the forest has always been home to her, and simply a place he visits.

As soon as she hears the footsteps, she knows it’s him, even before she hears his voice calling her name a moment later. She knows the sound of his gait, the rhythm of his stride, the weight of his footfalls. She knows _him_ , instinctively.

She reacts instinctively too. Which is how she finds herself fifty feet up a tree, looking down as Trinket plops himself at the bottom. He can’t hide, of course. She can’t decide whether she’s disappointed or relieved as she watches Percy make his way through the forest towards him.

“Hello, Trinket.” Percy is impeccably polite as always, even to a bear. “I don’t suppose you know where Vex’ahlia is?”

Vex can’t help but smile, despite the tangled mess of emotions flowing through her. It’s just so  _ Percy _ of him to ask. To be so well-mannered about it. To expect Trinket to understand. He does, of course; he’s smarter than most people give him credit for. And Percy has been around long enough to know that, to have learned Trinket’s intelligence and his mannerisms. And as Trinket looks up the tree at her, Percy’s eyes follow his gaze, and find Vex’s.

They look at each other in silence for a long moment, neither saying anything, and yet so much passing between them. Vex sees worry, sees relief, sees confusion. She wonders how much he can see in her -- wonders if he can put words to the emotions she can’t tease out from each other.

“I suppose,” Percy says at last, “if you’re up there it means you’re not injured or ill.”

Vex tries to laugh, but it catches in her throat. “I’m fine.”

“Are you?”

“I’m in the woods.” 

Percy nods. “True enough.” He shades his eyes with his hand. “Come down here?” he asks. “This is making my neck hurt.”

Vex shakes her head. 

“Then I’ll come up there.”

“Please don’t.”

For a second, it looks like Percy is going to argue his tree-climbing skills, but something in her voice must reveal that’s not why.

“All right,” he says instead. “But -- are you all right, at least? Really, I mean.”

She thinks about it.  _ All  _ right seems like a stretch. But she’s not in danger. “I’m safe,” she says. “I’m -- I needed space.”

He nods. “I know,” he says. “I’m sorry. For intruding, and for -- whatever I did.”

It helps. Not all the way, it doesn’t take away the hurt, but it softens it. She knows he means it. He’ll listen. He’ll change. He’s a good man. 

“I just needed to make sure you were safe,” he says. “But I can go now. I don’t want to -- I can give you space. I know what it means, when you come here.”

“I’m sorry,” Vex says. “I don’t mean to leave you.”

Percy shakes his head. “Don’t be sorry,” he says. “I’m glad you do what you need to. And if there’s anything I can do -- I hope you’ll tell me.”

She considers. It’s a conversation they’ll need to have -- the one she’d been intending to have, and the new one. But she’s not ready. Not yet. Not today.

“I will,” she says. “In time. Thank you.”

He nods. “You know where to find me,” he says, and turns to leave.

She does know where to find him, knows every inch of his castle and all his favourite places in it, knows his living quarters and his libraries and his offices and his baths. She knows his home, knows the castle she sometimes calls  _ their  _ home. Right now, she can’t. She can’t call it that. She can’t go there. Not yet.

“Percy.”

He turns, looking up, waiting.

“Come back tomorrow?” she says. “Same place, same time?”

“Of course,” he says. “Whatever you need.”

_ You_, she wants to say.  _ I need you. I need your love. I need your trust. I need to trust you. I don’t know if I can trust you. I want to trust you. _

She doesn’t say it. He walks away. She watches him go until he disappears beneath the foliage, then slides down the tree and buries her face in Trinket’s soft fur. They return to the cave. She sleeps, and dreams of a thousand futures.

~*~*~

She climbs the tree half a dozen times that morning, each time climbing down and trying hard to stop feeling like she wants to run. She fades into the woods, almost invisible in the bush, then forces herself back into the open. 

Trinket sits at the base of the tree, watching. His eyes are steady, soft, unjudging. 

“Why am I so afraid?” she asks him.

He looks at her.  _ Because it matters. _

“But I trust him,” she says, trying to believe it. “He’s a good man.”

_ Good men can do bad things. _

It is a truth that is as painful as it is comforting. She has done bad things, things she is deeply ashamed of. He has forgiven her, every time. He has done bad things, things he wishes with all his heart he could take back. She has forgiven him, every time. The mistakes do not erase the kindness, the gentleness, the generosity. They are more than their mistakes.

“I am more than my fears,” she murmurs to the morning. “I am more than my past. I am more than the people who have hurt me. I am more. I am.”

It becomes a chant, a heartbeat as she paces.  _ I am more. I am more. I am more.  _

But still, when she hears the first twig snap, she has to cling to Trinket’s fur to hold her in place. He lets her, doesn’t move, doesn’t twitch. He nuzzles her face, lets her kneel behind him, putting off what is coming for one more moment.

“Hello Trinket.” Percy’s voice is soft and warm. “Where’s your mama today?”

Vex steels herself, gives Trinket one last squeeze, takes a deep breath, and stands.

She can feel Percy’s breath catch as he sees her, can see the softness in his gaze. He holds himself perfectly still, and she wants to be irritated at his treating her like a frightened animal, but he’s right, and she’s grateful. 

“Hi,” she says at last.

“Hello.”

She makes her way around Trinket, still keeping one hand on the bear’s fur, his soft, warm solidness a sense of comfort and grounding. 

“How are you?” he asks, then winces. “Gods, I mean -- I’m sorry. Force of habit. I know that’s probably a bit of a complicated-”

“It’s fine,” she says, smiling, a small piece of the tightness in her chest loosening. She’s not the only one who feels uneasy. “Truth or pleasantry?”

“Truth,” he says, his eyes steady. He has never shied from the truth, however ugly. He would rather know, however painful. “If you want to tell me,” he adds after a moment, and she nods, grateful for that too.

“I’m terrified,” she says softly. “I don’t want to be.”

“Of -- of me?” He sounds dismayed, but not hurt. She wants to comfort him, but. Truth, not pleasantry. Even if the truth is that she’s not sure what the truth is.

“I don’t think so?” she says. “I’m not sure what I’m afraid of. It’s -- complicated. I’m sorry.”

“Please don’t apologize,” he says. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” 

She shrugs. “I’m sorry all the same,” she says. “I hate to hurt you. It hurts me.”

“Vex’ahlia-” Percy steps towards her, but stops, holding himself back. “Can I touch you?” he asks.

And Vex bursts into tears. 

Percy looks horrified. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to-”

Vex throws herself into his arms, and he catches her, he always catches her, and he holds her as she sobs against his coat. He says nothing, murmurs no empty platitudes or unkeepable promises. He just holds her, the way he asked permission to do.

He asked. That’s what Vex can’t stop thinking about, can’t stop turning around in her head, can’t stop  _ marvelling  _ at. He asked. Before he would touch her, he wanted -- no,  _ needed _ \-- her permission. 

“Thank you,” she squeaks out between sobs. “I’m sorry.”

“Of course,” he murmurs back. “Always. You have nothing to apologize for.”

She can tell he has no idea what she’s thanking him for, but it doesn’t matter. It’s not something he did for her, just to make her feel better. It’s something he did because it’s who he is. 

“You asked,” she tries to explain. “You listened. You cared.”

“Of course,” he says again.

She shakes her head. “Not of course,” she says. “Not everyone does. Not everyone bothers. You -- you do.”

“Is that what it was?” Percy says suddenly. “I brushed you off, didn’t I?”

She wants to shake her head, but she doesn’t. She wants to shrug, but she doesn’t. She wants to explain, but she doesn’t know how. “It wasn’t rational,” she says at last. “I know you didn’t mean -- I blew it out of proportion, but I just -- it was too familiar. It scared me.”

“I never want to make you feel that way,” Percy says. “I don’t care if it’s small. I don’t ever want to do it again.”

She wipes the tears from her eyes, resting her hand on his cheek as she looks up at him. She feels his eyes on her, soft and concerned and always so, so loving. She wants to remember those eyes forever. 

“It felt just like my father,” she says, the words sharp, and she can feel the hiss of Percy’s inhale but she keeps talking. “It was like -- growing up, I was always an interruption, an inconvenience, an indiscretion. All I wanted was to be enough.” She looks away, staring into the forest, into the past. “But I never could be. Because he never wanted me. I was _his_ , so he had to have me, no one else could have me, but -- he didn’t want me.” She takes a deep breath, shaking her head. “And I know that’s not what it was -- I know you get caught up and you were busy, but well. Suddenly all I could see was you being just like him -- to our child.”

Percy lets out a soft breath. It’s a lot to put on him, she knows. She knows he’s grateful anyways. She still wishes she could have found a way out of it. 

His voice is soft when he finally speaks, attempting a joke to lighten the mood. “That’s rather putting the cart before the horse, don’t you think?” 

Vex doesn’t laugh. “Not by much.”

His brow furrows. “What do you-” He stops. “Wait. Is this -- are you -- do you mean-”

Vex holds her breath, and nods. 

“You -- we -- I’m -- this is -- but then-” Percy seems unable to string words together into sentences, and Vex wants to laugh but she can’t, wants to tease him but she  _can’t_. She can only hold her breath and wait. 

She’s starting to feel lightheaded when she feels Percy’s hands grip hers, large and warm and solid. She looks up at him, sees warmth and joy and excitement and hope and  _ love_. 

“Thank you,” he says, “for being the best gift I could have ever asked for in my life. For making every day better because you are in it. I love you, more than words, more than I can express to you in an entire lifetime, but by all the gods I am going to try.”

The words are like soothing balm on her heart. She hadn’t known how badly she needed to hear them. She can finally breathe, but she doesn’t want to. Instead she kisses him, lets him take her breath away again and again, and he responds in kind. His lips are soft against hers, his hands gentle, almost worshipful, and some days she loves that but today she wants to  _ feel_. She wants to feel _him,_ and she grips his lapels hard enough to leave fingernail marks in the material as she pulls him close.

“Kiss me,” she murmurs against his lips. “Please, just kiss me, like it’s everything.”

And he does. His fingers curl, digging against her hips as he presses her backwards with stumbling steps until her back hits a tree. The bark is rough even through her clothes, but she doesn’t care, barely even notices, not when Percy’s arms are tight around her and he kisses so sweetly and he  _ loves her, always loves her. _

Fresh tears spill from her eyes, and she clings to him like he’s the only thing that makes sense, and he clings to her like she’s the only thing in the universe, and they sink to the forest floor, wrapped up in each other. 

It’s some time before they speak again, Percy finally the one to break the silence. “Will you come back with me?” he asks, the words as free from expectation as if he was asking if it would rain. 

She thinks about it. She could, probably. She feels better -- so much better. She feels safer, feels heard, feels understood and respected and loved and in love. 

But she doesn’t feel ready. She doesn’t feel settled. Not yet. She came to the woods to feel calm, to untangle her mind, and the knots are unwound now but she still needs to brush things smooth. 

“You don’t have to,” he says after a moment of silence, and she smiles, pressing a kiss to his hand. 

“I know,” she says. “Thank you. I think -- I’m almost there, but -- not quite. Not yet. Soon.”

He doesn’t argue, doesn’t plead, doesn’t question. He doesn’t even ask when “soon” will be. He just nods. “All right,” he says. “I’ll be waiting.” 

He stays another hour, leaving when they hear the bell signalling the end of the workday ring, audible even this far into the forest. He kisses her one more time, his hand resting on her stomach, love in every touch. Then he heads back to the city, glancing over his shoulder as he walks away.

She watches him leave, smiling in a way she hasn’t in days, with a lightness in her heart and a bounce in her step. She calls to Trinket, where he’s been browsing in the undergrowth, and he perks up. 

“Come on, my beautiful boy,” she says, her voice bright. “Let’s go exploring.”

~*~

By the time the sun dips below the horizon, they’ve hiked halfway up another mountain, and in the chill mountain air, Vex feels like she can finally breathe. She screams into the wind, letting it drown her out, feeling it carry away the noise and the fear and the anger and leaving behind only cool, clean calm. She looks down on the city, on the castle, everything bathed in a red-orange glow, like it’s burning, like it’s being forged anew. She wonders what it is becoming. 

She slips into the castle late that night. The city streets are nearly deserted as she passes through them; only a few stragglers heading home from the taverns or the brothels, and the occasional guard keeping watch. Instead of walking in through the front door, she veers left through the gardens, walking through the silent trees that Keyleth has spent so long talking to. At last, she stands beneath the window of the room she shares with Percy. She stares up at the opening, wondering if he’s there or still hard at work in his study, wondering if he’s asleep or still up reading this report or writing that letter. 

Scaling the wall isn’t particularly difficult for her, only slightly more than climbing a tree. There are gaps between stones, rough spots to grip. She’s done it before, doesn’t even need to see to be able to feel out the familiar route. She pauses just below the ledge, looking down at the grounds and the city beyond. It’s beautiful, all spread out below her, almost invisible in the dim light but she knows it’s there. She knows they’re there. The people who make this city everything it is. The people who call this city home. The people who make this city her home.

She pulls herself up another foot, peering in through the window. Percy is sitting up in bed, a book open on his lap but his head tipped back and his eyes closed. The candle at his bedside is out, though it’s hard to tell whether he blew it out or if it went out after he dozed off. She smiles, shaking her head. He never knows when to call it quits. It drives her crazy sometimes, but she loves him for it. 

She pulls herself over the ledge with a smooth motion, her feet making only the barest of sounds as they hit the floor, but when she turns, Percy’s eyes are open. He doesn’t move, simply watches her as she stands at the opening, silhouetted by moonlight.

“Please tell me you haven’t fallen asleep reading every night I’ve been gone,” Vex says at last.

Percy glances down at his lap, almost surprised, and chuckles. “Maybe not quite,” he says. “It’s harder to sleep, though.”

Vex smiles. “You could probably use some better guards.”

Percy chuckles again. “No one sees you when you don’t want them to,” he says. “I could hire the best guards on the continent, and you’d still sneak in here. Just to keep your skills sharp. Or to try to make me jump.”

“It doesn’t work anymore,” Vex complains. “You never jump. I’ve grown predictable.”

“Only because I know you,” Percy says, his voice fond. “And you’re welcome to sneak in my window any time you like.”

Vex has to laugh at that. “Generous of you,” she says. “Considering it’s my window as well.”

“What’s mine is yours,” Percy says with a smile. “My money, my castle, my heart.”

“What would you ask of me in return?”

It’s a teasing comment, she thinks, and she expects a teasing reply -- her heart, her kiss, her smile. But Percy straightens in bed, leaning towards her. 

“You don’t owe me anything,” he says. “You know that, right? You don’t have to give me anything. You never have to give me anything you don’t want to. I don’t value you for the things you can give me, the things you can do for me. I value you for who you are. And I will continue to value you even if you never do another extraordinary thing in your life. You are extraordinary to me, regardless of what bards are singing your praises.”

A lump forms in her throat. “I know,” she whispers.

“Do you?”

Does she? “I think so,” she says. “I’m trying to.”

He sets the book aside, climbing out of the bed and walking over to stand beside her at the window. He looks out at the quiet stillness of the city that he loves so much, that he has shared so willingly, so gladly with her. She takes his hand, his palms more callused than an average nobleman’s, but Percy has never been average. He squeezes her hand softly, three times. She squeezes back. They stand there in silence for a long minute. 

“I’m sorry,” she says at last. “I know I’m not always easy to care for.”

“Caring for you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done,” Percy says. “And the best. I’m sorry for everyone who made you believe that you weren’t worthy. They were wrong. And I will gladly spend the rest of my life showing you that.”

Vex’s mouth twists into a bittersweet smile. “It might take a while.”

Percy’s answering smile is soft, filling her with warmth from the tips of her toes to the end of her braid. “I’ve got time,” he says simply.

They stand there a moment longer before Vex yawns. Percy rubs her hand gently. 

“Come to bed?” he says.

She glances at the massive bed with its ornate frame, its embroidered canopy, its piles of pillows and mountain of a mattress. It’s lush, and most nights she loves it. But tonight, she craves something simpler, her eyes falling on the puddle of moonlight spilling onto the shag rug below the window.

“Can we sleep here?” she asks. “So I can see the stars?”

Percy smiles. “Like old times?”

She laughs. “Those were the days,” she agrees. 

“Of course.”

Percy fetches a few pillows from the bed as Vex lets Trinket out of his necklace. Their bedroom is large, but not so large that a full grown bear doesn’t make it a bit cozy. Trinket stretches, then curls up on the rug, wrapping around Vex. Percy joins a moment later on Vex’s other side, his eyes softer than Trinket’s fur as he arranges pillows beneath his hip. Vex feels a twinge of guilt -- the hard ground is rougher on him than it is on her. But he doesn’t complain, simply takes her hand and presses a soft kiss to the back of it.

“I love you,” he murmurs.

“I know,” she whispers back. “Thank you.”

And there on the floor, tucked between two of the people who she loves most in the world, feeling the new promise of another growing within her who she already knows she will love just as much -- Vex sleeps. She does not dream.


End file.
